Thursday, 12 June

Here’s an update on the Cloutier junket. The fridge now runs on propane. It was not the magic of electronics. Some pieces of soot had dropped onto the burner. The propane pressure regulator was a half a psi low, and the flame wasn’t as clean as it should have been. Tuesday we had a 18° freezer with an outside temperature of 100°. The cast and prednisolone are bringing the gimpy hind leg back to normal, and the tooth problem was a much simpler gum problem which is also on the mend. So we are well on our way to be ready to enjoy the summer. Durelle, of course, always muddles through in great shape with no problems (except for her choice of husband).
Tonight we went to granddaughter Melissa’s athletic awards banquet. She’s president of the first class to have spent all four years at the new Nashua North High School. In that role she took over the mike to present an unscheduled photographic scrapbook gift to the outgoing athletic director. Later she was recognized as a three season athlete and scholar-athlete and was also awarded a $500 scholarship by the boosters club. I think it is worth noting that, of the 190 senior athletes, 70% were designated scholar athletes (B+ or better for all four years). We were obviously proud of all of them. Four of them were kids I had tutored in the sixth grade.
Yesterday provided a warm and sentimental reunion. Eighteen years ago a young couple named Michael and Michele Ferrazanni, operating on a shoestring, opened a small Italian restaurant on Canal Street in Nashua almost across the street from the big old mill building where I worked for Sanders…now BAE Systems. I fell in love with the place and in particular with his entre he called calamari frito. It reached the point where I didn’t have to order. At that time the development program for the F-22 was moving into full swing. It was a many faceted operation with multiple contractor and Air Force affiliations, many of which were hosted in Nashua. As a result, I often hosted supper meetings for visitors at “Ya Mama’s”. I’m sure there was an appreciated economic effect for the new business, but Michael would have been just as gracious and accommodating with any customer. Ten years ago their clientele had outgrown what could be accommodated on Canal Street so they moved to larger, nicer digs in Merrimack. It was just after I retired, and Durelle and I were invited to their “soft” opening the evening before they opened to the public. Since then, when I have been in the area, I have tried to stop in. Yesterday was one of those days, and, as luck would have it, both Michael and Michele were working. Although it has been off the menu for fifteen years, I ordered calamari frito. To the puzzled look on the waitress I said, “Just tell Michael.” Within two minutes an unordered complimentary appetizer appeared on our table, and I knew I had been recognized. They later stole a few moments from a busy lunch hour business to stop by and visit. Michele is now breast-cancer free for eleven years. Michael popped out of the kitchen, glowing and a bit sweaty from obvious exertions in a hot, busy kitchen on a hot day. He greeted us warmly with a vigorous handshake and a big kiss for Durelle. The phrase, “It’s just like old times.” came to mind. To top it off, I spotted and spoke with the unchanged Ken Stevenson a Sanders cohort from those days.
Although this summer’s itinerary targets a lot of new experiences, it also includes the opportunity to renew many long time friendships. Yesterday was a perfect example.